


Your ink upon my heart

by shamelessllamapeanutthing



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, tattoo artist au, tattoo artist phichit chulanont
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessllamapeanutthing/pseuds/shamelessllamapeanutthing
Summary: The Phichimetti tattoo artist AU no one asked for.In which Phichit is a tattoo artist and Chris is the gorgeous client who's tattoo ideas Phichit really doesn't approve of.
Relationships: Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	Your ink upon my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmHunter/gifts).



> Okay, first things first, this is inspired by [Peaches and Cream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767328/chapters/62579326) by the super, duper, duper talented [EmHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmHunter/pseuds/EmHunter) which is a part of their series [10 Thinks I Hate About Your Sweater](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727740). Guys, I STRONGLY recommend this entire series. It'a a delicious mix of fluff, smut, angst and Best Brotp Feels, overall. This series is easily in my top five and I am obsessed with this AU  
> (well clearly, given I wrote this entire thing about it)  
> I borrow some elements from their AU, like Chris' asshole ex and dad, his beautiful cat and a lot of parallels that I can not give away here. But please, please if you opened this for some delicious Phichimetti, you gotta give Peaches and Cream a chance. I used to be a SeungChuchu shipper man, till this AU happened to me, that's how good this is. 
> 
> Further, this is beta-ed by the amazing [SoYoureClairevoyant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoYoureClairevoyant/pseuds/SoYoureClairevoyant) who writes absolutely heart-warming fluff so definitely check em out.

The door to the parlour gives a painfully loud creak as it is swung open and with an irritated wince, Phichit looks up from his phone, ready to tell off whoever has decided to drop by the shop without a prior appointment. He is not usually one to be rude to his customers but he has a session with one of his least favourite regulars in an hour, Yuuri is running late, and Phichit must have accidentally knocked a witch over sometime in the last week or so, and subsequently gotten cursed by them because his usually invincible friendly-smiles-on-a-cute-face morning starter pack is nowhere to be found today. He is simmering in irritation, nerves so shot they feel nearly ready to burst out of his skin over nothing and he decides if this customer puts up a fuss about not being entertained without an appointment he will be slain in cold blood. Yuuri can wipe the blood and deal with the body when he gets here. It’s what he deserves for being late again… because he got it good the night before, again… 

Which directly translates to Phichit having remained up all night, trying to block out his best friend’s shamelessly loud moaning from the flat next door,  _ a-fucking-gain _ .

…and,  _ oh, _ he realises, that’s why he’s so cranky today.

He’s not sure if it’s that realisation, or the lush green of his new customer’s eyes that makes him forget how inhaling oxygen works for a solid ten seconds before he is standing up and gesturing for the tall, blonde man to enter, expression instinctively lapsing into a charming grin. 

He already knows he is not going to turn the man away. Stupid Stanley can be made to wait an extra hour or so, it’s not like the man bothered to convey whether he liked the ideas Phichit sent him, anyway. 

“Hi,” and then because he is petty and it’s only fair, regardless of blondie’s ridiculously well-kept stubble that’s doing things to Phichit’s belly, he asks, “Do we have an appointment I forgot about or something?” 

It’s very annoying, after all, how people just  _ show up  _ at their door and give them a vague idea of what they want tattooed and then expect to be done and out within an hour and a half like Phichit and Yuuri won’t literally be sketching out a concept residing within their customers heads and then inking it into their skins,  _ permanently. _ Yuuri often joked about how they were more worried about the things people chose to have drawn on their skin than the people getting the drawing done, themselves. It would be funny if Phichit wasn’t sick of people looking down on his art like that. 

This man, at least, has the grace to look a little sheepish as he shakes his head, but his eyes don’t avert Phichit’s as he takes a seat on the couch Phichit gestured to. 

“No. If this is a bad time, I can come back later, or…”, he trails off, slender index finger gently scratching the underside of his jaw. Phichit, because he’s a decent person, very pointedly does  _ not  _ check his customer out. He does not marvel at the man’s sharply angled eyes or full, slightly bitten lips, he does not let his gaze trail down the clearly muscled arms concealed by blondie’s violet silk shirt and he absolutely does not have any trouble resisting licking his lips at the broadness of the man’s shoulders. 

“Well, that depends. I am Phichit, by the way.” He extends a hand, and that’s not something he usually does, because he is a tattoo artist not an executive in some hotshot company but blondie’s hands look big and warm and welcoming and Phichit has never been the type to deny himself harmless, small pleasures. 

“I am Chris.” Well, Chris has a very firm handshake, his considerably bigger palm folding completely over Phichit’s slender hand and now he is wondering how hugging Chris would feel, which is just ridiculous. “I… want something small. I don’t think it will take long, but I have never gotten a tattoo before so I am not really sure.” 

The more Chris talks, the more Phichit’s appreciation for tall, beautiful men with deep voices and pretty eyes grows. It’s hopeless to develop an instant crush on your own customer, he knows, but whoever came up with that rule has clearly never met Chris before because the man is unfairly gorgeous. 

“I want to get my boyfriend’s name.” 

… and incredibly stupid. 

Pushing down his disappointment, Phichit works on not making a weird face as he watches Chris’ cheeks colour the moment he words what he wants. For the first time, Chris breaks eye contact and licks his lips in nervousness and Phichit feels like an ass for no fault of his own. 

“That… is cute, I guess.” He successfully keeps himself from cringing. “You said you want it small so I am pretty sure we can get it done right now if we can find a preset font in my system that you’ll like. Where do you want it?”

Chris opens his mouth and then hesitates and Phichit feels like putting his head through a wall because Chris has clearly not given this enough thought and if there’s one thing Phichit hates more than people who get their lovers’ names tattooed on them, it’s people who do not feel sure about the tattoos they’re getting because both are highly likely to later regret them. 

He keeps his composure though, and smiles as he reassures Chris he has time to finalise till Phichit gets everything set up. 

They make it to the tattooing process fairly quickly, Chris picking  _ Scriptina Regular, _ a classic but elegant font. The name to be tattooed is ‘Sebastien’, which Phichit learns to loathe the moment he hears it. He knows it’s irrational jealousy talking, this Sebastien could be an NGO owner who breaks up dog fighting pits on weekends and donates to charity regularly but he chooses to hate the guy. 

He briefly wonders why Chris didn’t seem to have much of an issue when Phichit failed to bite back his derisive scoff the moment he heard the boyfriend’s name but doesn’t get to ponder on it for long as he catches sight of Chris’ jade eyes. Up close, Phichit can see they are flecked with a lovely golden and brown and promptly looks away. 

He can’t ignore the muted panic rising inside those eyes, however, and powers off the tattoo gun to give Chris a minute. 

“I am sorry.” The man mutters, “I have just never done this before.” 

Phichit shakes his head, allowing himself to swipe a thumb across the soft skin on the inside of Chris’ elbow, where his hand holds Chris gingerly, sleeve rolled out of the way and the patch of skin right above the crook, swabbed up and ready to be pushed the tattoo needle into. 

“You can take your time. I will tell you this from my first tattoo experience that it really isn’t as bad as the gun and the swabbing and the gloves make it seem. It will hurt of course, but you’ll be fine. You have picked a fairly safe area. Now, if you had gone for your wrist or higher up inside your arm I’d be worried.”

“What would you know, even I can get something right.”, Chris mutters. It doesn’t sound like it’s meant to be heard so Phichit pretends he didn’t. 

After a minute, Chris nods and Phichit gets to work. 

…

“I had a sexy client come in earlier today. Like,  _ really _ sexy.” Is the first thing Phichit says to Yuuri when he finally strolls in, neck red and bruised and gait limping just enough for Phichit to give him a proud pat on his back that has Yuuri flushing down the entire shade range of red. 

“And he wanted to get his fucking boyfriend’s name.” 

Yuuri laughs, because not only is that kind of sad, but the Japanese man is Phichit’s best friend and more than aware of his hatred for tattoos like that. Phichit can clearly remember a time when Yuuri shared those very same opinions until the night he and Victor got so shit-faced they decided Yuuri tattooing the first letters of both their first names together on the side of their ring fingers right then and there was the best idea ever. 

For someone absolutely smashed out of his mind, Yuuri did a spectacular job. Victor was ecstatic in the morning. 

“I bet you they’ll break up in two months’ time and he’ll have to come back to get it covered up.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes and Phichit is already anticipating the ‘you-need-to-stop-being-so-judgemental-over-this-what’s-wrong-with-you-you-are-usually-so-nice-yadayadayada’ lecture when Yuuri opens his mouth and says, 

“Fine. I bet you they won’t.” 

Phichit frowns and by the arch of Yuuri’s brow he knows Yuuri probably thinks this is a proactive way to break Phichit out of his bias. 

(Which is not a bias, but a fact. Getting your lovers’ name tattooed on you is a step that only succeeds one’s brain cells committing suicide.)

Thing is, Phichit isn’t stupid. Getting a tattoo like that is a show of devotion so desperate in and of itself that he just can’t see someone in a happy, fulfilling relationship doing that. He has always perceived it as some sort of security, like something on the line. Victor and Yuuri aren’t the rule, but the exception. Not to mention, they had been drunk. 

He knows he’s being overly cynical and his father would go so far as to laugh because he has firsthand knowledge of just how big of a romantic sap Phichit truly is but he’s allowed his quirks and pet-peeves, dammit.

Plus, Chris’ smile when he left the tattoo parlour was thankful and polite, nothing like the smitten smile of a man about to go surprise his lover with a gift such as this. Coupled with the fact that he walked into the parlour without a font, design or space in mind leads Phichit to believe that he wasn’t excited about this in the slightest, that it was a chore more than anything, and a relationship like that doesn’t have a high chance of surviving. 

So, he squares his shoulders and shakes Yuuri’s hand on it. 

…

Four months pass and Chris never shows up. 

“Simple,” Phichit justifies loftily and grins when Yuuri immediately starts throwing popcorn at him from across the couch. “He went and got it covered from some other parlour.” 

“Or maybe, just maybe, his lover was overjoyed to see the tattoo and they’re happily snuggling on their own couch somewhere out there in the city while watching this very same movie right now and you owe me 20 dollars.” 

“Fake news.”, Phichit mutters. 

“What is your big thing against it?” Victor asks curiously, eyes trained on Phichit even as his hand continues carding through Yuuri’s hair. “Did you get a tattoo for a boy who ended up dumping you or something?” 

Yuuri snickers and Phichit knows better than to let Victor’s words get to him. He is simply joking, and awful as Phichit’s experience was, it’s not the reason he hates name tattoos. 

“No, but a boy who cheated on me did get my name tattooed to trick me into thinking he had changed and truly loved me and all that jazz, only to sleep around again.”

Phichit pauses for dramatic effect, but mostly because of the completely gobsmacked look on Yuuri’s face and the horror dawning upon Victor’s as he realises how far he just stuck his own foot in his mouth. Phichit can barely hold back his laughter. 

“I have always been uncomfortable with the idea of tattoos like that, even as someone who grew up loving ink, with tons of pages filled to the brim with doodles and sketches and ideas that I wanted to get once I was eighteen. But then that happened and I just felt really stupid and I guess it did help solidify the negative emotions I attach with tattoos like those, but it also didn’t give birth to them. It, sort of, just, proved I was always right, I guess. Tattoos like that are a crappy choice, no matter how you look at it.” He sighs, and then adds, “No offence, of course.” 

Yuuri still looks too concerned about Phichit to go getting offended while Victor is just awkwardly looking around Yuuri’s flat for something interesting enough to abruptly divert their discussion to. Phichit is highly amused, and already calculating how long he can milk the obvious guilt they both feel at making Phichit recount those ‘painful memories’. 

He conveniently skips the part where he tells them they were both sixteen and this is, in fact, ancient history. His sister would jump on this opportunity to point out that his sadism is showing again, and he would smack her but since she’s not here, he just feels a pang of fondness as he remembers how she used up all her savings to take him out for ice cream when she found out about his cheating ex. 

It’s still one of the top ten sweetest things anyone’s ever done for Phichit. 

Presently, he watches Victor’s face brighten as he finally finds something suitable to say and knowing Victor’s track record with upset people, Phichit knows it’s either going to be something monumentally insensitive or extremely funny. 

He surprises both Phichit and Yuuri when he manages a relatively sane, 

“Well, we’re in a bit of a dilemma here. On one hand, there’s me and Yuuri and we’re perfect and never going to break up, ever,” he stops to level Phichit with a challenging look as if Phichit would ever dispute that, as if Phichit hasn’t always been team Victuuri, as if Phichit hasn’t used their story as a plot line for his shady JohnLock fanfiction. “Even if we have each others’ initials and while I admit I never even considered it when I was sober, even though Yuuri works as a tattoo artist, I’ve only been happier with these. On the other hand there’s you and another friend of mine, who got his boyfriend’s name tattooed only to be dumped that very evening.” 

Beside him, Yuuri winces in sympathy. 

“Poor Chris. I almost felt like giving him a hug. Almost.” 

… and  _ no, _ Phichit shakes his head. It just seems like too big of a co-incidence. There’s no way… he had always known Victor had a friend called Chris but Yuuri believed the guy was a snobbish asshole, and his Chris…  _ wasn’t. _

“The guy that came in,” he mentions conversationally, brain having already discarded the possibility. “He was named Chris too.” 

Victor stills and his eyes narrow with such ferocity that for a second Phichit feels like he is going to be reprimanded for not knowing Chris’ boyfriend was going to be a dick and tattooing him. 

“What was the name of his lover, Phichit?” 

“Sebastien”, he mutters, because even as memory has dulled his attraction to Chris by a considerable degree, his brain remembers to feel jealous of his boyfriend. 

“Yuuri, my dear, it’s actually you who owes Phichit 20 dollars.” 

…

Phichit sees Chris the very next Monday and the first thing that strikes him this time around is how much more relaxed Chris looks, in a soft-looking light green sweater and jeans, hand already scratching the back of his scalp in a sheepish gesture. It’s fascinating how Chris never expresses embarrassment with his features, but with sweeping motions of his fingers across his own skin, his shoulders slightly droopy and his smile just a tad more giving. 

“Here you are again, without an appointment.” Phichit beams and his tone must be sufficiently light-hearted for Chris to look up with a grin of his own. 

“Cut me some slack, I just got dumped.”

“That was months ago, the last time I saw you, in fact.” 

Chris’ grin broadens and he relaxes in his shoes a little, as if this particular line of conversation, banter, is something he feels he can deal with at this moment. 

“Been keeping track, have you?” 

“Someone has to, with all your lying and messing with dates to earn favours with very busy tattoo artists.” 

Chris walks closer, and really, when did Phichit stand up because Chris is closer than he’s ever been and wow, is Phichit ridiculously attracted to men who tower over him and make him feel small and protected. 

“And yet every time I walk in here, there’s no one to be seen.” 

Phichit doesn’t  _ have _ to fake a gasp and he thinks if Chris’ eyes weren’t their unique shade of sparkly-goldeny-green, he’d definitely have taken offence at that. 

“Would suck to have such a no good artist who never even gets any customers except stupid, irresponsible ones do your cover up then?”, he hopes to God Chris gets he’s the stupid, irresponsible customer. 

Phichit can’t tell if he does, because his cologne is distracting and his smile continues to make Phichit’s stomach erupt in butterflies at every inopportune moment. 

Chris just tilts his head and says, “No, I like this one just fine.”

Picking out a design is more difficult this time and Phichit has to go out back and request Yuuri (who gives him a very judgemental look) to call and tell his next appointment they’ll have to reschedule. 

He is told he is the reason Chris thinks he can keep getting away with this but he knows Yuuri well enough to consider the job done. 

“Alright, what do you want it covered with?” 

Chris blinks. 

“I have no idea.” 

Phichit takes a deep breath. 

“You do realise this is going to be on your body forever? Because I don’t think it sank in last time.” 

“You didn’t approve of the last tattoo.” 

It’s a statement and Phichit doesn’t see the point of trying to deny it, so he simply goes puttering about his desk and avoiding looking at Chris, which he thinks is cowardly, because Chris must be doubly embarrassed and he hasn’t once looked away from Phichit while Phichit was talking to him. 

“I knew it the moment I mentioned it. It’s why I felt too embarrassed to come ask for a cover up all this time till Victor mentioned he told you Sebastien dumped me.” 

“Why not just go to someone else?” 

Chris pauses and Phichit is expecting some generic reply about the vibe being comfortable, or his work being trustworthy. He remembers that time a customer had un-ironically told them they got their cover up from the same place as the original tattoo because they didn’t want ‘different’ inks ‘mixing and reacting’. 

Neither he nor Yuuri had known what to say to that lady. 

Chris, however, gives a simple, nonchalant sounding reply that has Phichit fumbling for a response. 

“Because I didn’t approve of that tattoo either.” 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, or what Chris even wants to hear. He quits trying to come up with something to say however, when he watches Chris’ shoulders fall, as if Phichit’s lack of a response is a disappointment for him. 

“How are you feeling?” He goes with his gut, because it’s never done him dirty. To his surprise, Chris’ smile isn’t half as sad as he expected. 

“Actually, very good. I mean, the first emotion I remember feeling when he called it quits was relief that it’d all stop. I guess I got a little burned out.”

His tone is light-hearted, words similarly so and Phichit decides to take them and hide them away. He will go through them some other time, (when he is no longer feeling like thinking too hard about the man in front of him will somehow make him physically tip over and spill out of himself), preferably in a place where said man can’t see him. 

“I did try to think of what I wanted to cover this with, and I  _ do _ have an idea, actually.” 

Phichit glances up at that. 

Chris reaches back into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone. Some tapping around later, Phichit is face-to-face with an adorable selfie of Chris grinning at the camera while his arm is being bitten by a gorgeous Persian cat, with a coat so spotlessly white Phichit thinks he might cry. 

“That’s Rani, my first love and most faithful companion. She hated Sebastien and it might just be destined that my girl fills in every single space he left empty.”

Phichit thinks the cat had the right idea all along and that Chris should really listen to her about everything from here on out but he keeps it to himself, instead choosing to mention how Chris’ cat has the same name as Phichit’s favourite actress. 

Chris chuckles a little over that, and it’s unfair how Phichit’s heart thunders. 

“I kinda just want her, and my hand where she’s biting it.” Chris explains and Phichit has to admit that makes for a wonderful idea. He immediately prints the picture and gets to work adding in details with a charcoal pencil. Nearly ninety minutes later, Chris is staring down at his arm in a mirror, eyes alight with quite marvel and Phichit feels proud of himself. 

… and of Chris, because that beautiful wonder, that reverent excitement are exactly the sort of sentiments that belong on the face of someone who just got a tattoo they loved. 

“Thank you, Phichit. It’s beautiful.” 

Phichit beams and because Chris looks so overjoyed with his ink he can’t help himself when he says, 

“I do not remember being paid any such compliment last time.” 

Chris laughs this time and it’s a loud, passionate sound Phichit won’t care to see lost. 

Somewhat pettily, but with a wide, happy beam, Chris remarks,

“It was an exceptionally ugly name, after all. I am sorry you had to hear it.” 

Phichit bumps Chris’ shoulder with his own and bites his lip when the gesture is reciprocated. His chest still feels funny, and he is afraid he has been blushing this entire time and yet, it’s only when Chris is halfway out of the door when he calls out,

“Wait!” 

“Yes?”

“You should take my number.” 

Chris’ eyes widen ever so slightly and Phichit is hastily retracting. 

“You know, so you can actually book an appointment, next time, if you want to, get another tattoo, that is, from me, I mean.”, he nods his head in emphasis and firmly believes he should be rewarded with an extra life right about now for actually getting that all out and not spontaneously combusting with Chris’ gaze pinned on him. 

“That’s an excellent idea.” 

…

“I can’t believe you were flirting with Christophe Giacometti.” 

“I wasn’t, Yuuri.” 

“I can’t believe you were flirting with Christophe Giacometti.” 

“Not you too, Victor!” 

…

The next time Phichit sees Chris is about a week later at a dinner party thrown at Victor’s in celebration of his and Yuuri’s first anniversary. It was an important occasion and while Phichit was ridiculously proud of his boy for landing such a fine piece of Russian ass, his arrival to the party is tinted with selfish excitement that has a lot to do with the knowledge that Chris is going to be there. 

Barely fifteen minutes after his entry into Victor’s swanky apartment, he finds Chris… or, to be precise, Chris finds him. 

“Sorry, I forgot to call in advance, yet again.” Chris says in the way of greeting and smiles when Phichit rolls his eyes. 

“It’s okay. I am starting to look forward to these little surprises.” and because they are at a party and  _ Chris is single,  _ he winks. 

Chris’ eyebrows shoot up along his forehead in surprise before he chuckles.

“Good, because so am I.” 

… and the corner of Chris’ mouth tilts into a smirk so cheeky Phichit almost gasps. He stares at Chris in a charged silence for a few seconds longer, mesmerised by the youthful spark his mischievous smile has leant those gorgeous green eyes. He doesn’t think he would have ever managed to look away long enough to come up with a sane sounding reply if Victor hadn’t picked that moment to sling his arms around both of their shoulders and insert himself between them. 

“And you’re drunk.”, Chris drawls, even as his arms come around Victor to steady the giggling man. 

“Of course I am! It’s my wedding anniversary!” 

Phichit blinks, clueless as to how Victor has convinced himself he is a married man. Chris, however, does not seem all that fazed when he says, 

“Is it now? Where is your husband?” 

… because  _ obviously _ , if Victor is drunk, chances are high Yuuri is too. 

His eyes meet Chris’ again, two sets of lips curling in acknowledgement of a moment well past them, before he turns to go look for his best friend. 

Yuuri though, is thankfully not drunk and Victor is soon delegated to him. As it is, Victor is docile around Yuuri even in the clutches of intoxication and all Yuuri has to do is kiss Victor’s cheek and promise to do it again only and only if Victor makes it through the night with not one more garment shed. 

Phichit spends the rest of the evening mingling with the other guests. His and Yuuri’s friend circles are nearly the same, so he knows most of the people present better than the half-hearted ‘hmms’ and ‘ohhs’ he offers them because his eyes are too busy trailing Chris’ pert ass. Guang Hong is the only one who notices anything though, and Phichit thinks he should be grateful for small mercies because had it been anyone else, they wouldn't have spared Phichit the teasing Guang Hong lets up on within a few minutes. 

The time spent gazing and sighing from a distance is long enough for Phichit to acknowledge it though. What might have started as hopeless attraction to an attractive customer has blossomed into a full blown crush. 

… 

The designated dance floor on the cleared patio has been filled and emptied already by the time Chris approaches Phichit next, while Phichit is thoughtlessly swinging to whatever song is blaring on Yuuri’s speakers, pleasantly tipsy and finally enjoying himself enough to forget about Chris. 

So, Phichit really isn’t to be blamed when he drunkenly mumbles, “That’s not fair! I just stopped thinking about you!” 

Chris chuckles and places a hand on Phichit’s, tugging softly in permission and Phichit allows himself to be pulled closer till they’re dancing together. 

“You’re… entertaining, Mr. Chulanont.” 

Phichit snorts. 

“Tell that to Yuuri. Fucking bastard says I am not funny.” 

For a second, Phichit doesn’t understand why the chest in front of his face is vibrating, busy as he is staring at the dip between Chris’ collarbones, bared by his half-way unbuttoned shirt and  _ oh, that’s new. _ There were certainly a couple more buttons closed when Phichit saw him earlier. 

When Phichit does realise Chris is laughing, he grins too. He thinks it’s a nice moment, slow and cute and sweet and calm and… other nice things. 

“Wait, does entertaining mean funny? It means funny, right? Funny means entertaining, doesn’t it? Like, funny people entertain you. They do.” 

Chris laughs more, Phichit grins more, and there’s not a lot else he remembers about that dance in the morning.

…

_ >> I want another tattoo. _

Phichit grins when he reads the text, and even though he can’t know  _ for sure,  _ he  _ knows.  _

_ Hello Christophe G.<< _

_ How I know, you ask? Because only and only Christophe G will have the audacity to hmu with a request like that out of no fucking where.<< _

_ >> I actually know what I want this time.  _

_ … _

The next time Chris comes to the parlour, it’s planned and Phichit points it out to Yuuri so many times that gentle, kind Yuuri feels obligated to resort to whacking Phichit across the head.  __

The design Chris had sent Phichit the night before was gorgeous and he is thrilled to work on a piece like this, but he’s yet to find out what it means to Chris. The guy didn’t say and he didn’t think it was his place to ask, so he didn’t.

“Hey!”, Chris sounds sort of breathless when he walks in this time. Phichit, who had locked himself in his studio half an hour ago because he won’t stop pacing and it was driving Yuuri insane, feels his heartbeat catapult into overdrive and it’s so ridiculous he can’t help laughing. 

“Where’s Phichit?” He hears Chris ask Yuuri and hurries to regulate his expression. By the time, Chris walks in, Phichit has worked himself into a ridiculously rigid posture. Yuuri barely holds back his laughter, gives Phichit a mocking thumbs up, and leaves. 

“When I was a kid, this friend of my father’s used to tell me a story.”, Chris begins when Phichit is halfway into spreading gel on his skin. An imprint of the beautiful stag sits snug on his upper back between his shoulder blades, it’s gorgeous antlers climbing up to brush the edge of his shoulders. 

Phichit doesn’t pause, even though his hand stutters. He hums anyway, to show Chris he’s listening. 

“It was about this stag and his beautiful antlers that he was so proud of. He looked down on other animals because of them. He was consumed by their beauty and felt he was better than the world for owning them. Till the day a hunter saw him and gave chase. While the stag was running, his antlers got caught in a web of brambles and he couldn’t move. He tried desperately to free them, but he couldn’t. Before he knew he had been shot. The end.” 

Phichit doesn’t know how to react, but he doesn’t trust himself with the tattoo gun just now so he doesn’t kick it up. 

“That’s a weird story to be telling a child.” 

Chris laughs, and Phichit winces because this laughter sounds  _ nothing _ like the laughter from that party. He doesn’t like it. 

“He used it to tell me to excuse my father’s behaviour towards me. He used to tell me my father didn’t come to any of my debate competitions, didn’t show up to the science fair I got 2nd prize in, never had a sweet word to say when I beat opponents twice my size on the tennis court because he wanted to make sure I never got obsessed with my antlers, and ultimately died of the same pride. I believed him for a while, I thought it was hard love and all that.” 

Phichit’s heart is still racing, but for all the wrong reasons this time. Chris is right next to him, skin warm under Phichit’s hand and yet he seems so far away that Phichit is nearly terrified of the chasm opening between them. It’s not a great feeling, on more counts than one and it’s  _ unwarranted _ because he  _ barely  _ knows Chris but it  _ hurts _ and he has to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. 

He feels too much and he doesn’t think he deserves to. This is not about him. 

“I don’t believe him anymore. I don’t think I have for a while. I don’t know if my antlers are ever going to get me killed. They just might. That doesn’t mean they aren’t beautiful, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be appreciated. I’ve been disgusted by myself for long enough, and I think that might kill me before the antlers do.”

“It’s a beautiful stag.” Is all Phichit can say. 

…

If only Phichit had known how drastically learning more about Chris, something he had been gagging to do for weeks, would change their equations. 

It isn’t easy to let go of Chris, especially since Phichit never had him in the first place. Nevertheless, it isn’t easy to let go of the idea of him either because Phichit, all vibrant colours and loud laughter has always been the intense one. He has never come across someone who makes him feel emotions as strongly as Chris does, even with their sparse texting and handful of meetings. It’s… strange, because Chris by himself is nothing like that. His brow is always smooth, face always calm, energy laid-back and pleasant, so it makes no real sense why the sensations he invokes in Phichit are other-worldly in their strength but it’s just one of the things he’s going to have to deal with.

Because Chris just broke up with his boyfriend. Because Chris clearly has some baggage in his past that he’s still trying to deal with. 

Moreover, he doesn’t look like the sort of person who likes talking about his past or his feelings, so for him to open up to Phichit has to mean something. Maybe, Phichit thinks, it’s one of those cases where someone is so used to acting a certain way around people they know, that they can never talk to them so they resort to confessing important shit to the doorman, or the stranger on the playground, or that man at the gas station.

Or in this case, the tattoo artist.

Inconsequential people who won’t affect their lives much are turned into safe spaces, in a sense and if Phichit is one such safe space for Chris he can’t bear to take that away with declarations of feelings he knows aren’t requited. It isn’t easy, he even sheds a few tears but eventually he resolves to settle with being Chris’ confidant and comfort him in whatever small capacities he can. If he’s lucky, they’ll even become friends. 

… 

_ >> It’s not scabbing, yet.  _

_ >> Is that normal? The Rani one started scabbing pretty quickly.  _

_ Different body parts scab differently. << _

_ >> Oh  _

_ >> I got worried for a second.  _

_ >> How are you?  _

_ Fine. << _

_ >> Okay _

Guang Hong thinks he’s pretty stupid. 

_ … _

_ >> Victor loved the tattoo. said you did very well.  _

_ I know. He told me. << _

_ >> Thank you so much, Phichit.  _

_ >> I have read so many horror stories of tattoos going wrong.  _

_ >> I am so, so glad I stumbled on you. You’re perfect.  _

_ Thank you. << _

He refuses to read too much into it. 

… 

The next time Chris books a tattoo appointment, Phichit tries to pass it off to Yuuri. He is told in no uncertain terms that he needs to get his shit together. 

When Chris enters, Phichit smiles overly widely and talks a little too loudly like a lying toddler with his nerves strung up, worried about being caught. It’s not his fault alone though, because Chris is acting shifty too, nervous, unsure, like his bones are lead and smiles plastic. Phichit doesn’t like it one bit so he quickly turns to his computer and asks for the design Chris wanted to get. 

There’s silence behind him and then a mumbled ‘God, this is a mess.’ He can almost imagine Chris rubbing his temples just then. He turns around to tell him it’s okay. Non-decisive clients aren’t the end of the world and they can brainstorm for ideas, together. 

He agrees though, this really is a mess. 

“I am sorry.” They both blurt out at the same moment and then smile uncomprehendingly. Chris perches himself on the tattoo chair. 

“I am sorry,” he begins again. “If I made you uncomfortable last time. Oversharing is not something I usually do and I don’t know what happened.” 

His eyes look distressed and Phichit feels like someone just punched him in his gut. He puts his head in his hand for a second, before deciding this is something he needs to say while facing Chris for maximum believability. 

“That’s not what… that’s not why… You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I didn’t mind at all. If anything, I am glad you felt you could talk to me.” 

“I don’t know what else I did to piss you off.” 

“You haven’t pissed me off.” 

“Really?”

Phichit groans. 

“No, you haven’t. I am just stupid.” 

“That makes two of us. I don’t know what I was planning on doing so far. Get a tattoo every time I felt like talking to you because I didn’t have the guts to ask you out? Stupid.” 

Phichit doesn’t know how to interpret the bellowing in his head, so he leaves it alone and just nods in agreement. He can’t look at Chris or think about what he just said. Ask him out?  _ Like as a date?  _

_… anddddd there goes the heart_ _thumping around mercilessly, again. Stupid organ._ Phichit considers donating his to whatever poor dimwit has tricked himself into thinking he needs one. 

Silence stretches between them and Chris is now drumming his fingers on his thighs, gaze patient and posture open, as if waiting for something. 

Phichit’s eyes widen when it strikes him what Chris just said and the way his head shoots up startles Chris into the realisation that Phichit probably hadn’t grasped what he said earlier. Both of their faces colour, and their eyes run along the expanse of Phichit’s studio before finding each other’s, what seems to be a couple of hundred times. 

“So, um, did you want a tattoo today or…” 

Chris laughs. It sounds sweet. 

…

When Phichit sees Chris next he is waiting under Phichit’s apartment complex in a sexy, maroon and grey, semi-formal suit with a single rose of a crisp white clasped between his thumb and forefinger. Phichit thinks he might die of the face-splitting grin he can’t bite back.

“You look beautiful, tonight.” 

Chris’ voice has never sounded so velvety before. Phichit brushes a hand down his own jacket front and fidgets with the tie around his neck which he had remembered to loosen just minutes before he left his apartment. 

“Thank you. You look good, too.” 

“I know.” Chris winks. 

“I revoke my compliment, then. You don’t need it.” 

Chris slips an arm around his waist.

…

They’re both free in the morning so they go grab breakfast, text through the work day and then FaceTime before bed. 

Phichit feels giddy, like every time their fingers brush together is like an eruption of dopamine and he only gets more and more addicted to the warm touch of the Swiss man. 

They kiss at the end of their fifth date, on Chris’s doorstep, bathed by the soft glow of the crescent moon and Chris’ posh lamp posts that Phichit loves teasing him about. It’s sweet, soft, unassuming. Phichit realises he’s letting Chris set the pace of the entire relationship here, move along as he feels ready. It isn’t so bad a thought and he leans closer, palms stroking up Chris’ forearms. When he parts, he realises his thumb is stroking the little Rani (who is a wonderful cat, really. Chris claimed she likes Phichit more than she liked him) sitting primly atop the crook of Chris’ elbow, concealing the horrid name underneath. He knows Chris is watching him, feels his lips trail cautious kisses into his hairline as they stand there, wrapped around each other and drinking in each other’s scents. 

“At least he was good for something.” Chris mumbles. 

“I don’t know. I like to think we’d have found each other anyway.” Phichit shuffles closer and buries his face in Chris’ chest, thoroughly ashamed of the words he knows he won’t bite back, because Chris seems like he needs to hear them. So he tries to muffle them in the fabric of Chris’ shirt, and despite his flaming cheeks, continues, “Even if we weren’t who we are, not where we are, I’d have found you and come to you.” 

Chris just gathers him closer, till Phichit’s shoulders are to his ears and he feels like he can barely breathe. Giggles fall from his lips, short on breath and gasping but he doesn’t want to ask Chris to let go. So, he bunches his fists in Chris’ shirt and snuggles in, holding them as close together as they can be. 

“Yeah,” Chris whispers into his ear and Phichit shivers. “I think so too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the [cat tattoo](https://pin.it/3M0hr0R) and [stag tattoo](https://pin.it/7m3rwo8) mentioned in the fic. I am planning on getting both btw. 
> 
> Comment and let me know what you thought.
> 
> Come scream at me about Bleach on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/shamelessllamapeanutthing)


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